


A Rest in a Quiet Realm

by wednesdays__child



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Faked Death, M/M, Pining, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesdays__child/pseuds/wednesdays__child
Summary: It's not often you get to attend your own funeral. Emily has done it twice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Lauren Season 6 Episode 18.
> 
> Unbetaed - sorry. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Quotes from the song "Ich Bin Der Welt Abhandengekommen" by Gustav Mahler.

*************

_I am lost to the world with which I used to waste so much time. It has heard nothing from me for so long that it may very well believe that I am dead._

It's not often you get to attend your own funeral. Emily sat in the back of the large black SUV, still attached to bags of fluid and oxygen tubes to help keep her stable. But they had allowed her this much. And for that, she was grateful.

This would be the second time that she had to fake her death. She wondered if it would be the last. Lauren Reynolds was dead. Now, so was Emily Prentiss. She hoped Jayne Porter had better luck. 

Looking out the window, she saw the casket that was supposed to carry her body, that her friends believed to be her. The boys, her boys, were carrying the heavy box - Anderson, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, Morgan. The last thing she wanted was for them to carry a burden like this because of her. 

The procession was slow and solemn - typical for a funeral. Still, it didn't mean she liked it. She wanted to roll down the window and yell at them that she was here, she was okay. But she knew that wasn't possible. The order had come from above, the State Department, and there was no way to override that. For all intents and purposes, she was dead. 

Rolling the window down slightly, she was pleased to hear the song she'd picked being quietly played.

"Ich Bin Der Welt Abhandengekommen?" Clive asked next to her as he leaned over. "Really Emily? That seems like a very maudlin choice."

"Shut up," she complained quietly. "I like it."

She had liked it. Her father was a fan of Mahler and she recalled him asking her piano teacher to give her some for her practice. One day, he came in and asked her to play this piece.

"I love this one," he'd told her. "Soft, sad, soulful. But it's a song for funeral. Remember that Emily."

The service was short and sweet, or at least as sweet as a funeral could be. She stayed, watching as her team all laid roses on her casket. It broke her heart to see them like this, to see them in pain because of her. If she could take it all away, she would. But what she'd been told before was very true - funerals are for living, not the dead. This would give them time to grieve and forget her even if she would never forget them.

_It is of no consequence to me whether it thinks me dead; I cannot deny it, for I really am dead to the world._

They wandered away - Rossi first, then Morgan and Garcia hand in hand, JJ watched Hotch like a hawk before slipping away, leaving the last two, his favorite two, standing over her grave. Clive was just getting ready to signal the driver to go when she gasped out, "Wait! Please wait."

As she watched, Spencer stepped over to the Unit Chief, staring deep into his eyes. Emily's breath caught as she waited in anticipation. Long, artful fingers reached up and gently stroked the strong jaw. The fingers trembled as they moved, slowly, steadily over the stoic face. Finally those fingers trailed through short, raven hair. She gasped when Spencer pulled Hotch in quickly for a rough, nearly brutal kiss.

Once upon a time, it would have been her ultimate fantasy to be the recipient of that kiss. She had always had a soft spot of the young genius. Her affection for him had gone from friendly interest to desire. It was why she had taken the beating from Cyrus for him, it was why she tried to watch after him, it's why she worked so hard to check on Hotch. As much as she wanted Reid, she knew how much Spencer wanted Hotch. It wasn't hard for her to see the looks of longing, the way Spencer would glow under the Unit Chief's praise. She wouldn't push herself on someone who was so obviously in love with someone else. 

She watched them kiss. It was painful, not just seeing someone she desired loving someone else, she could see the pain on both of their frames. Aaron let the kiss go on for several long moments before he reached up and placed his hands on the younger agent's shoulders. Slowly, he pushed Spencer away. As Emily watched, they began to fight, it was obvious in Spencer's animation, in the desperation in his face. Suddenly, Spencer pulled away, running to hide in the copse of trees near her grave.

"Give me your phone," Emily said to Clive, holding out her hand, never looking away from the scene across the cemetery.

"What?"

"Just give me your fucking phone, Clive," she growled. As soon as it was in her hand, she entered a text to a number she knew all too well.

***Go after him***

She watched as Hotch pulled out his phone and looked at the message. He looked around, searching for her. He scowled harder when he saw the lonely black SUV.

*You shouldn't be here*

She near growled as she quickly responded.

***Dont be a dick Hotchner. Go after him. He loves you. He needs you***

The older man stood of a moment, frozen in his indecision, before he turned toward the small copse of trees. He disappeared from her view and she tried to lean forward to see what was happening but the movement pulled on her stitches and she gasped in pain. Clive pushed her back into the seat and the nurse that was attending her readjusted the oxygen pulsing into her nose.

"I just need to know he's being looked after," she pleaded, needing one last look, one last reassurance that the one thing she still loved in this world would be okay. The SUV pulled forward slowly and the two men came into view. She smiled when she saw them tangled together, Spencer pressed against the rough surface of the largest tree, Hotch's strong fingers tangled in his chestnut curls - curls she imagined would be soft and fine and would feel like silk slipping between her fingers. Spencer's hands were roaming, gripping the pristine suit covering Hotch's frame. 

He would be alright. Hotch would take care of him. He had better or else Emily would find a way to make him pay. 

"Okay," she whispered, as she sagged and sank into the seat as if all of her energy had been completely drained from her. "Let's go."

It was time for her to go, to heal, to move on. Emily Prentiss was dead, to her and to her team. It was better this way. It would be better. And she would keep tell herself that until she believed it. 

_I am dead to the world's tumult, and I rest in a quiet realm! I live alone in my heaven, in my love and in my song!"_

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> I lost one of my college music professors and his funeral was this weekend. They played this song at the service and it really touched me. This idea came to me while I sitting in the car waiting in traffic while being evacuated from my home. It's been a rough weekend.


End file.
